currently

currently, i am trying to figure out how i want to look, what makes me feel good, why i don’t like my body & my face, and what i can do about it. i am trying to figure out if the way my body moves is alien to me because it has never moved like this, or because i’ve never noticed. i’m not sure how much of a difference it’ll make.

currently, i’m growing old trying to get into college and to make sure that neither of my sisters have to go through the long winded process that i am currently going through (to self: shalom, have you emailed mrs. hind for your sister?). i am trying to find work for the american summer, because…well, point five. i am unsure of what the future looks like from as early as june, and i don’t enjoy the uneasiness that comes with it.

currently, i am trying to make my way into freelance writing because i’m broke and because i really want to write. so far, a byline from women’s republic (a start up magazine that i am honoured to write for) looks possible. i’d like to write for the establishment, though. i need to get on that.

currently, i am dealing with the fact that i don’t have clothes outside of sleep shirts, a pair of jeans, and sweater dresses. i’m becoming more aware of how i think i want to present myself, and i think i need clothes for that. there’s a running joke in my family about me and becoming a nudist because of my lack of clothes, and it sounds like a joke, but oh, the possibilities….

currently, i am broke. as usual. i didn’t get the job at lush which sucks so hard. i am trying to scrape up R200 because i will not miss vodka party if you paid me. i mean, maybe if you paid me. seeing that i’m broke, and all.

currently, i am lonely. i’m not in school, so friends from school are (1) far and few between to begin with, and (2) in school. it’s a bit shit, the lack of platonic and romantic partners in my life. i need friends. and maybe someone to make out with. or maybe just some sleep.

currently, i’m putting on a pair of joggers i stole from a friend (she let me keep ’em tho, tell ’em ash) & going to run errands for my mom. am i going to lament over the price of tampons and yoghurt? probably.

there’s a lot going on right now, and i’m trying my best to ease into it. with my track record, i probably won’t. you’ll find out, though. chronic oversharer and all that.

love and light,
shalom


featured image from death to stock

of mondays and joy

experiencing fully fledged joy that isn’t mania as a depressed person is a strange experience. it’s very alien, and today has left me fulfilled yet super tentative of tomorrow, because i know something has to go wrong or back to normal, at least. it’s regression to the mean.

in the northern hemisphere (and now, all over the world too), the third monday of january is known as “blue monday” – the supposedly most depressing day of the year. it’s recognised everywhere and people really feel terrible and everything sucks, until tuesday. on tuesday, things go back to the way they were, and people no longer feel blue. for most people with depression, it doesn’t work like that. it definitely doesn’t for me.

i’m a happy person who’s depressed. i love people, and i thrive on the happiness of others. i adore belly laughs and tired sighs from days full of loving, but my brain also doesn’t make the neurotransmitters it needs to be making, so what we get from that equation is me. i rapid cycle between excessive optimism and damning despair far too much and far too fast. i’m dealing with it okay, though.

however, today has been a really great monday.  much like this one.

i didn’t get any sleep because i don’t get sleep, and had a really teary two a.m. i freaked out because i had so much to do including mailing transcripts for university admissions (keep those fingers crossed for me please!) and an interview for Lush. LUSH. The super amazing smelling, ethically brilliant and people focused brand. I was so stoked that I got an interview, but I was pretty sure it was all going to go to shit because of how my morning went. It was 21 degrees outside and I was sweating like a Christmas goat while trying to do my eyeliner because ya girl was anxious as HECK and also I was running late for a thing with a friend. It’s okay. I got there. Then the goodness began.

Jo bought me a hazelnut honey latte and I lost my mind because it tasted so good. We ran generic errands and I bumped into a storybook boy at the printing store. STORY. BOOK. As in curly hair big smile British accent story book. BOY. I sang to him about capitalism and he had a very cute laugh. I ran away because I’m an IDIOT and Jo gave him my number. He probably won’t text, but I’m glad I met him nonetheless. I have a boy to put in my stories now. I played with a Newton’s Cradle in a birthday store and got really giddy about science.

By DemonDeLuxe (Dominique Toussaint) – Image:Newtons cradle animation book.gif, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3717500

I then almost skipped out of my interview because anxiety, but went ahead and did the damn thing. I have a trial shift on Thursday! I am SO EXCITED. I then went to get some tea, paid for a short and got upgraded to a grande for free. YES. I then got free samples of cheese and of bread at Woolworths and bought a cheese and tomato baguette that surprised me with the best tasting basil & mayo I have ever had. My eyebrows also did the damn thing. I got home and napped for three hours, ate a pie for supper, found a blog that’s probably my new favourite (do check out Dora @ For The Goldfinches because wow – follow her on instagram too! She’s a joy.) and got invited over to swim with a friend tomorrow. It’s also MLK Day, so I got to smash down some microagressions regarding not being black enough, which was exhausting but necessary. I’m glad I did. Happy birthday to my biggest writing hero, Lin-Manuel Miranda, too! There’s a gif party on twitter if you wanna come. #gifTparty

I’m a bit sad that today is over, honestly. It’s been the best day that I’ve had in years. I’m grateful for it, but also hyper aware of the fact that everything has to swing back to the middle eventually. I learned about regression to the mean from Teen Wolf. I have a weird relationship with that show.

Despite how well today went, I still have the undercurrent of despair running through me, but I’m okay with it. It’s not the loudest in this moment, and every moment that my brain allows me to just be is one I am grateful for. I’m about to knock myself out with some heavy sleeping pills, and I’m really glad that I can. On Saturday, I didn’t think I’d make it to the end of the day. Thank goodness I did though. Who else would have taught that cute boy the capitalism jingle?

love and light,
shalom xo

MISTER RACIST JOKES BRITISH MAN.

Hello gang. I went on the completely rad ridiculously fun filled trip of a lifetime to Lisbon in the middle of November, and had the pleasure of meeting some amazing people. I feel so lucky to say that I have a friend from Maine who ate ice cream at sunset with me, that I have a friend from Calgary who is my favourite person to teach dance moves, and that I have a friend from Miami who may or may not be secretly (definitely not) engaged to another friend from Ireland. (We’ll see how that goes.)

I also, as such, have the joy to provide you with a story of one of the not-amazing people I met on this trip. I don’t know if you can tell by the title, but he’s Mr. Racist Jokes British Man (Who BROKE MY GLASSES)™. Buckle up, buttercup: we’re about to go on a ride down pink streets and several alcohols and toasted sandwiches and shitty people. It’s storytime.

My friends, cast your mind’s eye to the 21st of November: a regular day in a hostel in the Lisbon city centre. I eat breakfast, I walk around the city centre. I fall in love with Portugal some more, while listening to WALKTHEMOON’sPortugal‘ on repeat. I return to the hostel, sign up for communal dinner by Mamma, and meet two brilliant human girls from Massachusetts. They inform me of a party. Word about the party travels down the table, and after a quick session of getting dressed and drinking green wine in the street, at least a third of the hostel is headed to Brazil. It was a Brazilian themed party. We didn’t walk to Brazil.

Brazil is mad, and there is much drinking and dancing. After a while, we leave, and the group I am with separates from the group with the Massachusetts babes. We try to find another party, come across a dodgy girl who asks us to wait for her on a street corner while she fetches her friend (we don’t) and sing along with a group of people and a seemingly homeless man playing ukulele. I yell, “what is happening?” a lot. (That’s not new.)

We return back to the hostel for more dancing, drinking, and toasted cheese sandwiches with lifesaving capabilities. Mr. Racist Jokes British Man (Who BROKE MY GLASSES)™ has been with us the whole night. He’s fine. Cool enough guy. Talks a lot about very random things and becomes less likeable by the longer he keeps his mouth open, but he’s alright.

At this point, the way that the conversations (there are about 96 happening) got to where they are is beyond my comprehension. In the conversation I am currently in, we are talking about boobs and birth control. I don’t know how or why. I, being well-enough versed in both boobs and birth control, am contributing to the conversation. Mr. Racist Jokes British Man (Who BROKE MY GLASSES)™, who is not very well versed at all in either, chooses this time to enter the conversation. He turns from the bar and says to me, “You’re not on birth control, are you? No, you don’t take that, no”. He is laughing, and I laugh because I am confused. I say, “How would you know?” and he says, “Oh, that was a racist joke! Because you’re black!”

Y’all.

I can do a lot when I’m drunk. I can do the splits, I can do six shots (with deep regret in the future), I can demonstrate my life saving hair-holding skills – I can do lots. I can’t be calm. Nope. Calm? Far friend. Second cousin thrice removed. Calm?

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I sat down, alone, and for four minutes went OFF. In a very drunk fashion, I mumbled to my cheese sandwich about how I wanted to tear this human man’s limbs apart. I didn’t tear him apart. I got angry and then drank some wine. So. Here’s my anger.

WHAT THE FULL FRESH EVER LOVING FUCK. Mr. Racist Jokes British Man (Who BROKE MY GLASSES)™, what the hell are  you on? You understand that a racist joke is racist, right? That it’s not a joke and that you’re a racist asshole? Why did you open you mouth and have your entire adult brain create that sentence and then expel it like it was okay? Are you jas? Are we going to talk about how (a) you stink of pigheaded white colonialism mentality, and (b) you know fuckall about black women? I don’t know if you know, but you know nothing about black women. You’re also not a black woman. Actually, the fuck do you know about boobs or birth control? Ugh. Male birth control is necessary. Please. It makes sense to take the bullets out of the gun instead of putting on a bulletproof vest. You’re also the same human man who thought that saying, “Yeah in high school they painted my face black because I was playing the black guy from Fiji”. You???? You are the STRAIGHT UP WHITEST BRITISH PERSON ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET AND YOU SAW THE ONE BLACK GIRL IN YOUR COMPANY AND DECIDED THAT THAT’S THE WAY YOU SHOULD TAKE THE CONVERSATION? Wow. Wow. What a wow. You are a whole wow.

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This foolish ass man also broke my glasses. Grown human man breaks glasses of human woman, laughs and continues his attempt at macking on her. It reads like an Onion title. A lot of my life reads like an Onion title.

Anyway, I thought of all these things because I’m wearing the same dress I was wearing then tonight. And, because I miss Lisbon.

I’m doing Christmas baking with a pal in twelve hour. I hope I never see Mr. Racist Jokes British Man (Who BROKE MY GLASSES)™ again. I got v annoyed looking at him for the last couple of days he was at the hostel.. I’m also really tired, and really glad I got this off of my chest.

Happy time of day to everyone except Mr. Racist Jokes British Man (Who BROKE MY GLASSES)™. My petty ass is being petty. The end.

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love and light,
shalom x

(all gifs from giphy.com xo)

a love letter to/from lisbon

take me with you
’cause even on your own
you are not alone

 

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i love you.

i love you, so much.

i have to keep pinching myself to remind my brain that you’re real, because loving by halves, like austen, isn’t my nature, and if something else has been taking up all the space in my brain, i’d like to know.

take me with you 
’cause even by yourself
you are something else

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this city has consumed me. i have been lost for more hours than i have been asleep; danced drunk for longer than i thought possible, eaten so many pastries i thought i would turn into one; made so many impulse maroon purchases that i wanted to forget that money was a thing; fallen on slippery cobblestone in the rain despite several attempts not to…

one summer turns into ten summers
one lover turns into ten others
but this memory is still with me

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you are a wonder amongst wonders. you are more than i can comprehend. you are all that i need to be thinking of to find myself. you are pale blue skies and obnoxious church bells ringing. you are every combination of strength and gentleness that i ever wished to find. i don’t wish for much anymore.

so close, bring me in so close
your clothes underneath my clothes
once upon a time in portugal

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in lisbon i have found parts of myself that i didn’t know i had lost. i found that a hostel can really become your home, that 3 am is an acceptable time to start partying, that getting a reassuring squeeze from a then-stranger from calgary, maine, los angeles, virginia, spain, luxembourg or india can really alter the course of your night, and that sometimes swiping your card and seeing what happens is really the best adventure that there is. i learned that i can write a short story about a thunderstorm of a person from a perspective that isn’t mine in dour days, and that it can be good.

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i arrived in lisbon with an arfrikaans property developer that i met on the plane, food poisoning, and a fear that i would run out of money. i start my journey back home via luanda in about 8 hours. i’m leaving lisbon with a cold, a new sweatshirt, no money, and a very, very full heart.

thank you for having me, lisboa.
thank you for having me, you.

i love you.

love and light,
shalom xo

Six Things I’ve Learned Preparing For My Upcoming Trip

If you’ve been around here before, you’ll know that I’ve spent most of this year (a) going through the absolute most, and (b) saving for a trip to Portugal. If you haven’t, or didn’t know: welcome! I’ve spent most of this year saving for a trip to Portugal.

In May this year, I was watching my favourite travel vloggers and considering the novelty of travelling somewhere alone. So I used mine and every other broke traveller’s saving grace, Skyscanner, to look for a cheap flight from Johannesburg (Any) to Anywhere. I was looking for the first and cheapest thing off of the African continent, and the beautiful city of Lisbon popped up and stole my heart.  And money.

After a session or three of I-can’t-sleep-so-let-me-research-this-decision sessions, i decided to tell my sisters, brother and mom that I would be going to Portugal in November. My mom laughed, and older sister looked at me and said, “I’m coming too”. And that was that. We had six months to raise all of the money we would need, and too many problems that tried to throw us off. So. Here are some things I’ve learned:

MAKE SURE YOU HAVE A VALID PASSPORT / VISA / VACCINATIONS.

This seems pretty obvious, but 2016 just so happened to be the year where both of my passports expired right before I needed to book flights. Check your passport(s). I ended up renewing both of them by myself and felt very adult-like, but I was still pressed for time for flights.

BOOK FLIGHTS EARLY!

Some tips on booking flights: most places where you buy a flight online have a booking fee, and if you’re a broke bitch like me or if you just want to save money, call into the place first – the booking fee is usually waived when you call in or go instore. Book early. That lucrative price you’re drooling over? You’re gonna keep drooling. Because it’s going up in three, two…

HOSTELS > HOTELS.

Why on earth would you stay in a hotel that you know you can’t afford if you could stay in a hostel, meet new people from all over the world who are travelling cheaply just like you, and still receive free breakfast and wifi? Y’all. Come on now. When deciding which hostel to stay in, check reviews and make sure you don’t pass over a great deal because there’s a bigger hostel overshadowing a little gem.

MONEY IS PROBLEM. KINDA.

Look, money is funny. There’s never enough of it, and just when you think you have enough, you remember that the exchange rate on Google isn’t the same rate the bank is going to give you. Walking into a forex place with a wad of cash and coming out with ten notes is a little discouraging, but you’ll survive. Have a plan. Capitalise on the free breakfast. Do your research on where to eat and how to move around cheaply. You’ll live. (I’m hoping you will. I’ll let you know if I do in about a week or so.)

LEARN A LITTLE OF THE LANGUAGE!

Even if it’s just little things like asking where the bathroom is, or how to say left and right so that you can interpret directions. Languages are amazing and impossible to avoid, so rather prepare yourself and know how to get to the airport shuttle than having a breakdown in the airport. 10/10 would recommend googling ‘(language) for tourists’.

PSYCH YOURSELF UP FOR TRAVELLING ALONE.

My sister and I are going on different dates because of exam clashes, and I’m a little scared about being alone. No, I’m not a wimp for this – I’m just scared. I’m going to travel through a country alone and make a stop in another’s airport (I see you, Angola) and it’s gonna be a little scary. But that’s okay, because I know I just have to feel the fear and to the thing anyway. I mean, I paid for it! I may as well. It may not be sunshine and rainbows from jump, so prepare yourself for the anxiety, fear, and wonder that comes with flying solo.

In three dayS, I’m going to write an exam, come home, say goodbye to my family and then hop on the train (subway? metro? gautrain.) to the airport. I’m going to leave for Portugal via Angola with nobody watching my back but myself. I’m excited beyond belief. Prepare yourself for the inevitable spam.

love and light,
shalom xo

 

a letter to my thighs | honest letters #2

Dear left thigh and right thigh,

You two have been kept apart for so long, and I know that now that you spend every waking (and sleeping) hour touching each other, you’re a little uncomfortable. Let me tell you, I’m pretty bloody uncomfortable myself.

I know you resent the lack of the comfy distance between you two. That elusive thigh gap that made you two stay away from each other and made me “skinny” is gone, and my two hands can no longer perfectly fit around one of you. I know that it sucks and I know that it’s partially my fault for spending 30% of my allowance on food before the month even starts. I get it! But I’m not sorry. I’ve been working out, like, loads. Okay. Not loads. Enough. I go to Wits! Everything is a fricken 15 minute walk from everything. I literally make sure that you get exercise every day because we all walk home together. See?

I know that this isn’t satisfying, and that you’d still like to know why you’re stuck together, and the reason is this: estrogen.

Niiiice, Shalom, blame it on the hormones blah blah blah. I am blaming it on the hormones! It’s their fault! I’m sorry for not consulting with you before I started this birth control, but it was a bit of a split-second-try-to-save-yourself-from-your-body-that-may-be-trying-to-kill-you decision. Hormone regulation isn’t fun. Trust me, I didn’t sacrifice your personal space because hoe is life. Though, if I did, you’d have to shut up and deal. I appreciate that.

I know that you hate the fact that I have to have to unstick you guys and that all the god forsaken chafing is driving you up the wall, but I want you to know that I love you. I mean, maybe I don’t yet, but I’m really trying to.

We’ve been through a lot together. You’ve literally held me up for eighteen and a half years and I’m really grateful for you leg-parts. We’ve made it through ballet and eating disorders and sports politics and running from robbers with guns and dancing on people at parties. This is a change, and maybe you’re making me buy new pants for the first time in six years, but I’m gonna stick this out with you.

Thanks for being part of me.

love and light,
shalom xo

Scoot On ~ why I probably SHOULD shut up

Oh hey! No,I’m kidding. But hi anyway!

So if you’ve been following this blog for a while, you’ll know that here in South Africa, it’s exam season. In three weeks or so, I’ll be writing on pieces of paper that determine how much I’m worth until I’m out of school. It sucks that the only way our intelligence at school is measured is based solely on how well we follow instructions from another person or do exactly as they say without questioning anything. School is actually really difficult, and you know, I think that the only thing I’m certain of is that

THE MITOCHONDRIA IS THE POWERHOUSE OF THE CELL

Thanks, Mrs Moloney (6th grade Natural Science teacher).

Today, while sitting with a group of girls and doing the chit-chat thing, I realised something several times : I’m in the business of saying things that shouldn’t be said. I don’t know how to phrase that any better, but I suck at timing and my facial expressions really are beyond my control.  Off the top of my head, here’s three:

  • ” I’m going to be a little late for the meeting at break…I’m doing the thing with that girl in the bathroom.”

WHAT? I just had to go to the bathroom,but that came out of my mouth instead. I wish it hadn’t because I’m almost 300% certain that my deputy headmistress was behind me.

  • History teacher:” Are you sleeping in my class? You’d better have a good reason for this.”

ME:*looks around nervously* “I’m so sorry, I just–I — THERE ARE BOYS IN MY HEAD AND I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THEM, YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND”

I have no explanation for this. I can’t justify myself. I feared momentarily that I was going to re-enter the “I’m so random” phase, which was by far THE WORST to ever possess our generation. I don’t know, I’m still apologising to myself. And to everyone who had to witness it.

  • “I’ll chi chi your hua hua if you don’t stop”

Real talk,this human wouldn’t stop talking about their dog teddy bear thing from old/new/imaginary boyfriend. For real, it’s great to talk about things that make you happy like a teddy, but if that’s all you talk about, we’ll have a problem. I think I’ll stop here before I (a) fail physics, (b) make myself more potentially unhireable than I am, and (c) type more garbage.

embarrassment is said to build character. I sure damn hope so.

All my love,

-Scoot xx


YOUTUBE CHANNEL IN DECEMBER

Scoot on ~ chronic douchebaggery

Yeah, so I’m still in Ethiopia and I have a pretty strong feuling for this post: beware – yet another rant (though calmer than most) awaits.

I’ve met my fair share of awful people. And I know more of them await (due to the fact that I’m 15 and basically know nothing in the grand scheme of things), and I plan to face them all with the same attitude…except if they happen to be a re-incarnarion of Mandela of some sort – may his soul forever be at never ending peace.

Anyway, on to today’s subject matter: the douchebag.

Who, and or what, is the douchebag, and where does it/ this person come from?

Prime example of the day: I have a friend. Her name is Jenna, and she’s in my ballet class. We don’t go to the same school, and only see each other about 3 times a week when I can make class.

Jenna went to a party. (Yay parties!) Jenna saw the DJ who just so happened to go to my school. (Yay DJ!) Jenna took a fondness towards said DJ. (Yay fondness?) DJ happened to go to my school. (Yay Northcliff!)

So me being the friend that I am, I tell Jenna I’d find out about this DJ guy. Armed with nothing but the name ‘Andrew’, I set out to find more about this kid.

And then I realised that I knew Andrew. (Yay Andrew?)

NO.
(insert rage here)

Andrew once teased one of the less popular girls in his grade, something about her hair being frizzy or something. If you know anything about me, you know that if there’s one thing I can stand in this world, it’s injustice. That includes all type of bullying or mistreating of anyone EVER.

So I, being me, proceeded to publicly push Andrew -note: he stumbled back and shall not quickly forget that he was assaulted in the name of justice and threatened with castration should he try to defeat the ends of justice again- and get this girl away from him.

Jenna’s smart. You can guess that her intrest levels in Mr. Andrew changed rather drastically.

(Negatively, that is.)

Andrew is a prime example of what I’d call a douchebag. Or a douchenozzle, or total idiot, or misguided fool, or…well you get the point.

The douchebag has a stange way of somehow attracting, in this case, many of the fine female species to his douchebaggery ways. This, however, is not adviseable.

DO NOT FALL FOR A DOUCHEBAG
DO NOT LET HIM IN
DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT

(crazy warning moment over)

Look, I don’t have a problem with many people, but if you’re really just an intolerant butt-face who thinks he’s God’s gift to humanity…there’s a problem. How to find out if you’re a douchebag 101, done.

So in conclusion, don’t be awful. I’ll will pull a complete Liam Neeson on you – okay, maybe a half Liam Neeson on you- because I will find you and injure you.

Badly.

Regardless, if you’re a douchebag, stop and be nice. Chronic Douchebagerry can be treated. If you’re not? Ah, just keep being you, you’re awesome. And I send you tonnes of positive energy because you deserve it. Bwam!

Stay you people, and keep your eyes peeled and brains attentive for the nearest d-bag. Objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they appear, look out.

Can’t wait to be back home in SA!

All my love, all the time,
-Scoot xx

Scoot on ~ professional embarassment

Why hello there 🙂 I’ll have you all know that I wrote my last exam on Thursday and I am officially done with 10th grade…hopefully forever :/  Regardless, I’m alive and my friends are alive and you’re alive, so life is good maaaan 🙂

So while going ahead my usual useless being, I fell. On the road, while walking to the gas station, I fell flat on my knees in front of a petrol attendant. And he asked me if I was going to marry him. Hmm.

I have a tendency of getting myself into awkward situations that leave several people embarrassed. I guess that it should embarrass me more, because it’s not every day that a fifteen year old covered in dust falls to her knees in front of a very friendly man named Sipho and  nearly proposes to him. I’m fairly certain that it never happens. Except with me. This isn’t the first time I’ve almost proposed to someone, actually. The first time was when I was showing my friend Gillian the cottage at my house, and then I slipped on a piece of cardboard and ended up in proposal position in front of the plumber. I’m starting to believe that this whole muscle memory thing is real.

I don’t get embarrassed anymore. Not when I nearly propose, at least. I guess you could call me a professional embarrasser. I have this tendency to stop feeling awkward, ans just make everyone else wish that the ground would swallow them up. I suppose it comes with practice.

It’s not always helpful, contrary to popular belief. I know, that phrase is well overused, generally because it’s not popular belief. Regardless, when you reach the point where you can literally no longer embarrass yourself because of how often you do, it’s sad. And then you realise that you can, because you go about your regular embarrassing life, and embarrass yourself more than you humanely thought possible. Well, probably not you, but still.

Anyway, without further ado, here are some non-proven ways on how to embarrass yourself less. Coming from me, you should probably do the opposite.

1) Accept the embarrassment.  Look, if you embarrass yourself enough everyone else will either willingly or forcefully deal with it. But if you can’t, then you’re just gonna look like a noob. And let me get this straight, there’s nothing wrong with noobs. Just do you, I guess.

2) Learn how to recover swiftly. I have a dance which involves slowly putting your hands in your pockets…it usually embarrasses me more. But see point 1. I really think that a smile is good enough.

3) Stop reading this and go do something! Sorry, just my lack of life coming through.

Anyway , that is all for today, hope you all have a lovely Friday 😀

All my love, all the time

-Scoot xx